The Death of Francis Boyle
by Lizzy Turner
Summary: The true story of Francis Boyle's death.
1. Chapter 1

The Death of Francis Boyle

He rolls over onto his back and slowly opens his eyes. The midday sun is streaming through the slits of his curtains like moon beams through the clouds. He rubs his swollen eyes and thinks about last night. His mouth is dry and his nose is sore. Still laying on his back he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before rising up on one elbow knowing that that small movement will cause the dull ache behind his eyes to rear its ugly head and become a full blown siren. He reaches over to the night stand beside his bed and grabs the glass of water he had placed there the night before right along with his gun. He drinks the glass dry. He's about to lay down again when he hears someone coming up the steps to his front door. He calmly puts the water glass down, picks up his gun, and laying back down, waits.

After a few seconds there's a loud knock at his door. "Max! Max!"

He quietly moans and slowly rolls out of bed. He cautiously moves through the hall towards his exterior door, and looks through the peep hole. His head is throbbing. Talking through the door, "This better be important."

"You told me to let you know when Trina shows up."

Max closes his eyes in relief. Thank God she's alright. He hadn't seen her in over a week and he was beginning to worry. "Okay. Now beat it."

The kid backs away from the door and heads back down the stairs.

Deeks is tempted to head back to bed, but changes his mind and heads to the bathroom for a long hot shower. Thirty minutes later he comes out feeling much, much better. Tonight is business, last night was fun. Not his idea of fun, but certainly Max Gentry's idea of fun: booze and coke. He doesn't mind the booze so much, but the coke is scary stuff and he doesn't like doing it. Most of the time he is able to fake it or just plain refuse it (Max isn't much of a coke monkey), but that wasn't the case last night and he had done a couple of lines. It's rough on his body and his nose, but doing it every once in a while helps him maintain his cover.

 **1st Street Pool Billiard Parlor**

Max walks in and does a quick look around. The bar is not very crowded, but it's early. He goes up to the bar. He's a regular so he doesn't have to tell the bartender what he wants. Max contrary to Deeks is a man of few words. He waits for his drink and then turns around, leans on the bar, and views the room. He sees Trina in the corner talking to Joey. She's average height and build, a blonde with green eyes. The world hasn't been too kind to her and she's had to make her own way. She's had it rough and when he's around he tries to keep her safe. Well, as safe as he can. After all she's a working girl.

Trina looks up from chatting with Joey and sees Max at the bar. "See you later, Joey. I'll have your money after tonight."

"I know you're good for it Trina." Joey watches her walk away. "Be careful out there."

She says over her shoulder, "Always." As she gets closer to Max they make eye contact and she gives him a big smile. "Hey, Max."

Max, playing it cool, gives her a nod. As she nears, his eyes narrow and he pushes himself off the bar glaring at Trina closely. She stops in front of him, her smile vanishing. He gently takes her by the chin and turns her face left and right closely looking at the yellowing bruises on her face and the cut on her lip. "Jesus, Trina."

She pulls away from him, "It's nothing." Max shakes his head looking at her sternly. "You should see the other guy." Trina says with a chuckle.

"Lame, Trina." He turns around to face the bar and nurse his drink.

Trina joins him,"Okay, so it got a little rough."

He chuckles, "A little rough?" He looks at her face, he notices a little swelling near her eye, and reaches up and touches it softly. "That's an understatement."

She pulls away again."Yeah, well, next time it happens I'll be ready." She pats her red clutch.

He looks down at her purse and then back up at her, and casually asks, "Who was it?"

She shakes her head, "You don't know him."

"Wha-"

"And I'm not telling you his name."

"If I don't know him then telling me his name won't make any difference."

"If I tell you his name you might go after him."

Max deeply sighs while looking into his glass and finally turns to Trina, "You know, one of these days you're going to get yourself killed."

"Not if I can help it." She gets the bartender's attention and he brings over a drink. She too, is a regular.

 **LATER THAT SAME EVENING**

Max has concluded his business and after several more drinks leaves the bar. Outside it is dark, there's a chill in the air. The sidewalks are empty and the streets are bare. Finally alone, he stands in the shadows outside the bar and takes in several deep cleansing breaths trying to shake Max's persona. He looks out over the parking lot and sees one lone person walking his way. As the person draws nearer he can't believe his eyes. He recognizes the man as his old partner Francis Boyle. Max backs in deeper into the shadows and hopes that Fran doesn't see him. Having Francis Boyle blowing his cover after all these months undercover will not be good. And Fran won't think twice about calling him out. Their split wasn't very amicable. Deeks wonders what brings him to this area of Los Angeles. Max watches as Fran makes his way to a seedy apartment house half a block a way. A few minutes later Max sees the lights of a fourth floor apartment come on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Standing in the cover of night Max continues to watch the apartment on the fourth floor. A lone shadow moves back and forth across the window. He can't see him clearly because of the thread bare curtain on the window, but he knows it's Fran. The way the shadow walks and turns and pauses, he just knows. Occasionally the shadow stops and peeks out the slit in the curtains as if he's looking or waiting for someone. Max continues to stare at the shadow and reflects back on his partnership with the man. He shakes his head in disbelief. It seemed so long ago and yet, it wasn't. The wet chill of the night seeps through his jacket and it brings him back to the present. He runs his hand over his hair and rubs his eyes. Time to go home. He's just about to step out of the shadows and head home when he hears the door to the bar open.

Trina comes out laughing. He'd recognize her throaty laugh anywhere. She's with someone. "I'll be fine, Joey, don't worry," she pats him on the cheek, "but it is awful nice of you."

"You sure, it's pretty late?"

"I can manage myself, but thanks anyway." She walks away, "I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

"Alright, Trina. Take care." Joey goes back in to the bar.

Max watches Trina as she makes her way up the street. To his surprise she walks to the same apartment building that Fran walked into moments before. She pauses briefly and looks up to the only light that's lit at this hour of the night. He shakes his head and softly says, "No, no, no, Trina . . . Don't." She ruffles up her hair, smooths out her clothing, and heads in to the apartment building.

Without a second thought Max casually saunters over to the apartment building. He looks at the neglected building; the outside door barely closes, windows are cracked, paint is peeling, window screens half off or not there at all. His eyes move to the fourth floor window.

 **Inside the fourth floor apartment**

Francis Boyle is pacing, he's angry. He looks down at his watch. "Where is she, where is she, where is she?" The apartment is something he rents to make life easier. He found it about a year ago and uses it for, well, for activities that he really doesn't want others to know about. There's a small living room, kitchen, bedroom, and even smaller bathroom.

Trina knocks gently on the apartment door. She's startled when Fran jerks the door open. She smiles and whispers, "Hey honey, have you been waiting long?"

Fran grabs her by the arm and pulls her into the short hallway that separates the entryway from the living space. He pushes her against the wall and snarls, "Where have you been?"

"W- well, I've been waiting for you. . . of course." She smiles and reaches up to touch his cheek.

He grabs her hand looking puzzled, "Waiting for me, where?"

"A-, At the bar down the street."

He throws her hand down. "I told you before I don't like that place, there's a bunch of derelicts in there," he moves away from her and walks into the living room. "I can't be seen in there."

She can tell he's high, his eyes are dilated and he seems more restless and irritable than usual. She takes a deep breath and pushes herself off the wall. It's going to be one of those nights, she can feel it. She follows him into the living room and light heartedly says, "I waited for a while and when you didn't show I figured you'd be here." She goes to the kitchen and puts her clutch on the counter. As she pours herself a drink she tries not shake. She drinks it all at once, a little liquid courage. "And, I was right!"

She goes back into the living room and sees Fran sitting on the couch smiling waiting for her. He pats the couch beside him and reaches out to her, "Come here, baby." She looks at him a bit puzzled as she moves in to sit beside him. He looks at her closely, "That cut on your lip is almost healed."

She reaches up and touches it, "Yeah, another few days and it will be just like new."

He takes her by the hands and looks her directly in the eyes and sorrowfully says, "Look, I'm really sorry I hit you." Trina nods, she's heard all this before. She thinks to herself, using the word 'hit' is a bit of an over simplification. It was more like being hit repeatedly until she was able to run out the door.

"I won't ever do it again." She nods. "I promise." She nods. "Look what I have." She follows his gaze to the small table in front of them. She notices the cocaine lined up in neat little rows on the black coffee table right beside his revolver and badge.

Trina sees where some lines have already been snorted, "Wow, it looks like you've started the party without me."

"I've had a few."

She shakes her head, "Not tonight, Fran." She moves in to kiss him.

He reaches around to the back of her head and grabs a handful of her hair. He shoves her head close to the coffee table. "Yes, tonight."

"Fran, stop!"

He pushes her face closer, "Shut up. Do it."

Trina quickly glances in the direction of the kitchen. Her purse is on the counter. She tries to shake loose. "Fran, I'd rather just have another drink." She tries to move away from him. She needs to get to her purse.

Fran keeps a tight grip on her hair and her wrist, "I don't want to hurt you, baby." He smiles at her.

Frightened of a repeat from the last time they were together, Trina takes a hit.

Fran releases her, "See, isn't that better?"

Trina leans back on the couch while Fran takes a hit. She moves to go to the kitchen, but Fran stops her. "Where are you going?"

"I told you I'd rather have a drink."

"Just another one, baby." Trina looks at him, "Come on, just one more."

He's not himself. She decides that it's safer if she just does it. She takes another hit.

Fran leans over the coffee table and takes another hit. He passes the straw to Trina. "Fran, I told you, I don't want to."

"What do you mean, there's only a couple of more. Then the fun begins."

Trina, tired of his game and perhaps her false sense of self confidence, reaches over to the coffee table and brushes the remaining cocaine off the table. "I told you I don't want to."

Fran, in shock, backhands her across the face. She touches her stinging cheek. "You bitch." Immediately, he reaches for her hand, "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."

She looks into his eyes with determination and pulls her hand out of his, "No, no you're not." He's stunned by her show of courage. "I'm leaving. . . now" She moves to get up.

Fran gets up with her, "Oh no you don't," he grabs her by the arms and throws her on the couch.

Trina scared to death, screams.

Frans holds her down and covers her mouth with his hand. Her muffled screams going unheard by the sleeping neighbors. He leans in close and quietly, and calmly says, "If you scream, I swear, I will kill you." She stops struggling and he takes his hand away from her mouth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Trina touches her lip with the tip of her tongue and feels blood where her previous cut had been. Through gritted teeth she says, "Get off me."

Fran gets up from the couch, "Calm down."

She sits up, "You almost killed me."

"If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

A chill goes down her spine, she believes him. "Look, I think we should call it a night." She gets up from the couch.

He blocks her exit. "I'll pay you for the night, Trina, you're not leaving."

"You don't have to pay me."

"Oh, but I want to." He takes out his wallet and starts pulling out some money and throws it on the coffee table.

She eyes it thoughtfully. She could use it, she's not going to kid herself. She still has to pay Joey back. She looks up at him. "No . . maybe some other time." She walks around him and walks to the kitchen for her purse.

He follows her and waits at the kitchen threshold for her to retrieve her purse. "Come on, Trina, I'm sorry. Okay?"

She looks into his blood shot eyes and shakes her head. In the morning he won't even know what transpired tonight.

"I didn't mean it, Trina," he pauses, "none of it."

She moves past him to the door, leaving him in her wake. Bad mistake.

Before she knows it Fran grabs her from behind and drags her back in the direction of the living room. "You are not leaving!"

Startled, she drops her purse. As he drags her farther and farther away from her clutch she feels her chance of getting away slipping by.

Fran drops her on the floor near the coffee table, the same coffee table that minutes before they were snorting cocaine off of. Through teary eyes she notices his gun, her eyes widen, and a plan begins to form. There may be hope after all.

He sits on the couch and leans down to talk to her, "Why do you make me treat you like this?"

She wipes the tears from her eyes and gets up. "You're right, sweetheart. I'm sorry. Why don't you fix us a drink and I'll go freshen up."

He watches her closely, ready to stop her in case she decides to run for the door, but she goes straight to the bathroom. He gets up from the couch and goes to the kitchen to pour a couple of drinks.

Five minutes later Trina comes out of the bathroom looking stunning. She's changed into a white lacy teddy and see through robe that she keeps at the apartment. Not really much point in the robe, but what the heck.

Fran takes a large gulp of his drink and places his glass on the coffee table near his gun. Trina walks over to him, straddles him, and kisses him hungrily. Fran runs his hands slowly up her thighs to her hips. While Trina wraps her arms around him, his hands continue their journey up her body exploring her curves and bends. He moans and breaks their kiss, "Come on," as he motions to the bedroom with his head.

She moves to get off of him and as she turns she bends over, grabs his gun off the coffee table, and points it at him. "Like I said, I'm leaving."

Shocked, he looks her up and down. "Like that?"

The gun shaking in her hands, she nods, "Yes, just like this." She moves to get around the coffee table.

Fran moves to get up from the couch, "Trina, don't be like this."

"Stop right there."

"I said I was sorry." He stands up. "Weren't we just starting to have some fun?"

Trina takes a step backward. "Fran, don't make me shoot you."

He takes a short step toward her, "You won't shoot me, Trina. You know what would happen if you shot a cop? You'd be hunted down like a dog."

Trina, now doubtful, looks at him through tearful eyes. She throws the gun at him and runs for the door. Fran ducks, the gun hits him and bounces to the floor near the wall. Trina gets to the door, but it's locked. She only gets to one lock before she hears him coming. She's about to scream when his hand reaches around and closes over her mouth. With one hand over her mouth and the other around her waist he once again drags her away from the door and into the main living area. She's kicking and swinging with all her might. Finally, she's able to bite his hand. He quickly pulls it away, turns her around and takes a mighty swing at her. She stubbles backwards and slams against the outside window of the apartment.

Max has been watching the fourth floor window for quite some time. The lone shadow that he saw earlier has turned into two. At one point the shadows had left and he thought they may have retired to the bedroom, but they had come back. Now they were gone again. He was about to leave the dark, wet, cold night and head to the comfort of his own bed when suddenly the shadows were back and it seemed as though one was suddenly up against the window.

Before Trina can sink to the floor Fran grabs her by the neck and starts to strangle her. She claws at his hands then his face, but he's not letting go. She looks at him and she sees a monster, a monster out of control. She tries to say his name, but she's can't.

Max sees that another shadow has joined the first. He says to himself, "What is going on up there?" and continues watching intently.

Fran isn't letting go, he doesn't want to. Trina knows she's going to die. Darkness is beginning to creep into her field of vision. She's desperate, she begins reaching for anything. She pulls on the curtain.

From down on the street, Deeks sees the curtain tear away from the curtain rod. His cop instincts kick in. He runs up to the outside door of the apartment house and shoulders it open. He climbs the stairs two at a time to the fourth floor. He gets to the door . . .

Trina's vision turns black and she stops fighting. Fran releases her.

Trina becomes limp and Fran lets her go watching her fall to the floor. Deeks kicks in the apartment door. Fran turns in time to see someone coming at him.

Deeks grabs Fran and heaves him out of the way. Deeks kneels down in front of Trina and checks for a pulse. He breathes a sigh of relief. "Trina, can you hear me?" He sees the angry red marks around her neck and the fresh cut on her lip.

Suddenly, Fran comes around and strikes Deeks over the head with a heavy lamp. Deeks rolls to his side barely conscious. In a wild frenzy, Fran continues to attack, he kicks Deeks several times in the ribs. Deeks, short of breath, tries to get up, but is unable to. He crawls on the floor backwards trying to get away from Fran's relentless attacks. Waiting to deliver the final blow, Fran watches his young, old partner try to distance himself from the his final beating. Fran can't help but smile at himself for besting Deeks.

Deeks backs himself up against the living room wall. He has no where to turn. He reaches to the small of his back for his gun, but it's gone.

Fran sees Deeks' movements. "What, no gun?" Fran, thinking he has the upper hand, slowly moves towards Deeks with the lamp high over his head ready to swing it over Deeks head and get rid of his old pesty partner.

Miraculously Deeks hand lands on a gun, a revolver. A gun that only moments before Trina had thrown at Fran. He brings it up. "Don't move." Fran startled stops. "Drop the lamp, Fran." Fran smiles and starts coming at Deeks again. "Fran, don't make me shoot you."

"We both know you don't have the guts, Deeks." Deeks fires into Fran's shoulder. Fran is surprised by Deeks, but takes another step. "Fran, stop." Fran doesn't stop. He just keeps coming, a look of pure hatred on his face. Deeks fires again, and again, unloading the revolver into Fran until he finally stops and lands at Deeks' feet.

Max regains his composure, slowly gets up, and pockets the gun. He'll get rid of it on his way home. He finds his own gun under the coffee table. He looks over at Trina, she's just coming around. He heads to the front door and pulls his black hoodie over his head and pulls up on his jacket collar. He calmly walks out into the hall, down the stairs, out the exterior door of the apartment house, and heads home.

There won't be any witnesses. Trina never saw him. And besides she'll do what she does best, disappear. And the neighbors in the apartment house? No one heard anything, saw anything, or will say anything. This is Max's neighborhood.


End file.
